


Leftovers Have A Habit of Sneaking Up On You

by w0lf0fshad0w



Category: Marvel (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types, The Avengers - Ambiguous Fandom
Genre: Chores, Domestic Avengers, Even Superheroes need to clean up after themselves, Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-24
Updated: 2013-09-24
Packaged: 2017-12-27 12:38:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 862
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/978994
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/w0lf0fshad0w/pseuds/w0lf0fshad0w
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Someone has to be the one that starts cleaning up, Bruce just wishes it wasn't always him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Leftovers Have A Habit of Sneaking Up On You

“What the hell is that?”

The voice comes from behind him and he reluctantly draws back from his exploration of the hidden recesses of the fridge to watch Tony switch on the coffee machine, putting bread in the toaster and juggle a half-reassembled gauntlet while somehow managing to gesture towards the soggy mass of brown liquid in a bag on the edge of a sink.

“Lettuce,” Bruce replies, voice muffled by the fact that his head and most of his arms are once again inside the large fridge in the middle of the kitchen they tended to use most often, “I think.”

“Why is it on the bench?” he hears Tony ask, followed by what sounds suspiciously like a metal finger poking at a liquid filled bag.

“Because I’m cleaning the fridge,” Bruce replies simply, straightening up with a variety of jars in his arms, all well past their expiry date. He drops them all onto the bench, some of them even making it into the half-full plastic bag in the sink.

“Why?” Tony asks and Bruce and hear genuine confusion in his voice. It would be cute if he hadn’t just spent most of his Saturday morning cleaning out the horror that was the fridge. Bruce turned to watch Tony snatch his toast out of the toaster on the counter with a wince, depositing the gauntlet onto the bench with a clang so he could juggle the hot bread between his hands.

“Because apparently nobody else realises it needs to be done,” Bruce complained with a small huff, watching in mild disgust as the other man peered into the jar of raspberry jam before tearing off a bit of his toast and dipping it into the jar, “really Tony? You know that went off last year right?”

“It's jam Brucie,” Tony sighs, Bruce being knocked to the side so he can peer into the now very empty fridge with a frown, “not like it actually goes off.”

“Actually it does,” Bruce said, snatching the jam back and adding it to the growing pile of expired jars, liquefied vegetables and questionable leftovers that littered the bench.

“No it doesn’t,” Tony insists, abandoning his toast to pick up the jar again and Bruce watches with horror as Tony sticks his finger into the sticky spread and sucks the jam off his finger, releasing the digit with an audible pop and a grin, “see?”

“You are going to make yourself sick,” Bruce replied, walking past the other man and being yanked back towards him by a (thankfully not sticky) hand on his arm.

“No I’m not,” Tony replies, digging more jam out of the jar and holding it out towards Bruce’s face, “try some.”

“No,” Bruce replies, eyebrow quirked in amusement as he eyes the offered hand, trying to pull away, “I don’t think I will.”

“It won’t hurt you,” Tony sighed and Bruce had just enough time to wonder if that’s how he sounded when he was trying to convince Tony that he actually was a human and needed to eat despite his protests before a jam-covered finger was pushed against his lips. He opened his mouth to protest, which in hindsight wasn’t the best plan he had ever had, and found the flavour of slightly tart raspberry filling his mouth. To be totally honest, it wasn’t the worst thing in the world and there was every chance that the jam wasn’t expired because it tasted exactly the same as any other jar of jam he’d had, but he would never give Tony the satisfaction of knowing that. He was just about to make a big show of pulling away and spitting out the jam when a voice from the doorway behind him drew his attention, jumping and spinning to face the noise.

“Really guys… in the kitchen?” Clint almost wailed, hand over his eyes as he walked to the coffee pot, picking up the glass jug and backing towards the door, “put a sock on the doorknob next time!”

“Feel free to join in,” Tony laughed after him, his eyes turning back to Bruce, light with mischief as the now clean finger dropped from Bruce’s mouth.

“You do realise he took the coffee with him?” Bruce asked with a grin, turning back to his task with an amused sigh as Tony almost ran towards the door, he gave the other man a few seconds before calling back over his shoulder, “don’t think this gets you out of helping!”

He couldn’t quite make out the muffled yell from down the hall, but several moments later he did hear the sound of a body hitting the ground and the unmistakable sound of glass against tile followed by angry conversation as the two men made their way back into the kitchen. Bruce dumped another lot of sad looking vegetables on top of the pile as the surveyed them, Tony covered in coffee and Clint still managing to look tired despite the bruise already forming on his elbow.

“Ok children, grab some gloves,” Bruce said shaking his head and pulling a (thankfully) intact jug out of the cupboard to make more coffee, “you’re helping me clean.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> Originally written as a request on tumblr for some domestic avengers. It was meant to be just general a 'Bruce is sick of everyone's crap' story and it kinda got away from me a little bit. In the same universe as The Necessary Evil of Uncomfortable Shoes.


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